Fathers and Sons
by DarthRuinous
Summary: Palpatine accompanies the Jedi and his Queen to the landing platform on Coruscant and discovers a promising future in a shaggy-headed boy. Multi-chapter AU branching off near the end of Phantom Menace. T for violence, dark themes.
1. Birth of a Future

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"He was too young to be trained in the ways of the Sith, in any case, but he was the perfect age to bond with a father figure who would listen to all his troubles and coax him inexorably over to the dark side." _– Darth Plagueis_

Fathers and Sons

Chapter 1

He had to admit: She went to her death with admirable dignity.

The stately transport, filled with Naboo dignitaries and security forces, skimmed lazily across the highest lanes of Coruscanti traffic. These uppermost lanes, reserved for the diplomats and royalty of the Republic, required special permits to even be allowed to traverse them. If one peered out the window, the dazzling husk of the city planet stretched out endlessly below, dotted with myriad streams of traffic.

The sight no longer fazed him, one who had long grown accustomed to such vistas, and he watched with faint amusement as his queen, disguised in the vermillion and gamboge robes of a handmaiden, did her best not to gawk out her window. _So young, so naïve, so…impressionable._ Add a dash of headstrong stupidity, and he found himself traveling to see her off to Naboo once more.

The air felt alive, brisk, enthralling tonight as he sucked it into his lungs with a calculated, ragged sigh. Beside him, the Queen – technically one of her handmaidens in ridiculous but effective disguise – turned her head toward him in polite concern.

"Are you all right, Senator?"

"I am well, your Grace, as much as one can be considering our tragic circumstances," he dipped his head, playing along with a show of obeisance. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Padme Amidala straighten in her seat. "I must confess, though, I fear for your safety. The more I dwell on this matter, the more I come to sense that you are making a dreadful mistake."

She did not answer for a long moment, casting instead a cautious look at her ladies-in-waiting. He held his tongue patiently, letting the darkness drift over him. If she had heeded his wishes to remain on Coruscant, an obedient little puppet, she might have lived a few more standard years until her usefulness was over. Yet now, her impetuous decision had led him to one of his own. She would die upon her return to their home planet.

Her bumbling interference would no longer be tolerated. She was speaking again, and he brought himself back to the present.

"We must all do as we are led, Senator," she droned on in her majestic and formal Naboo accent, "Again, I trust you will bring some sanity back to this Republic, but my people need me there with them."

Below them, the free-standing landing platform floated into view. He felt the engines shudder and whine as the ship corrected the flight path and lowered to dock.

His eyes glinted with despondent sorrow. "Your people adore you. Certainly, dying as a martyr will endear you to them, but what use will a dead Queen be? I know they would prefer you alive, to lead them out of this morass."

"Your concern brings warmth to our heart," the Queen was unmoved, and she was no longer looking at him but straight ahead at the dull grey finish of the transport's hull. "Take care of yourself, Senator. Your assistance in these trying times has been invaluable to us."

Summarily dismissed. Padme had instructed her protégé well. He swallowed back the malice bubbling in his throat.

The passenger light blinked on in the compartment, and the Queen and her handmaidens rose in swift coordination. He followed them slowly, his mind turning over the complications that her actions were already creating. She would not turn from this path. So be it. He usually enjoyed it when beings thanked him for twisting the knife in their backs, but his irritation with the feisty little queen made it harder to look humble and accept her parting words.

His souring mood shifted when he made it to the landing platform's edge.

There was the boy.

Now that Palpatine truly _looked,_ his presence was like a blinding light in the Force, painful to behold and yet intoxicating in its sheer potential. How had he ever missed it before? All his previous years of endless machinations suddenly seemed dull, empty of promise.

Plagueis had fretted ever since Palpatine informed him of the boy's existence. Sidious felt the unease and discord through the Force nearly every time he had since spoken with the Munn. However, he felt no such foreboding despair. Here was where his true destiny lay, with this tiny lump of a child, born a slave and destined to change the fate of the galaxy.

Anakin Skywalker trailed far behind the retreating backs of the Queen and Jedi. Now was his chance. "Excuse me," he called cheerfully, practically floating over the smooth expanse of the platform. "Young Anakin Skywalker."

The boy turned, surprised to hear his name coming from behind. His mouth fell open when he realized who had called to him. Beside him, the R2 unit whistled and beeped. "Senator Palpatine, sir," he snapped up straighter. "What do you need, sir?"

He soaked in the respect, the admiration. Clearly, the child already understood the nature of power. "I wanted merely to wish you the best of luck in your next adventure. I understand that you are now on your way to become a great Jedi." Of course, he knew the opposite to be true. It paid to have spies and servants on every level of Coruscant, up to and including the edges of the vaunted Jedi Temple.

He watched, outwardly concerned and inwardly pleased, as Anakin's face crumpled. "No, you see, sir, that's not it. Not anymore." His voice was barely a whisper. "They said I couldn't be trained. I'm just going along with Master Qui-Gon because I don't have anywhere else to go."

Palpatine marveled at the tremulous slave embedded in the boy's personality. He let his own face twist into an expression of mingled shock and dismay. "Not a Jedi? Oh dear. I regret their decision, child. Knowing what you have already done to secure my queen's safety on Tatooine, it's hard to imagine that they would turn you aside so callously."

Was Plagueis wrong then? Were the Jedi indeed going to turn away the supposed Chosen One? He would have to explore this possibility as soon as he returned to his apartments and before he met with his concerned partner.

The boy was stammering and blushing at his compliment, "I didn't do much, not that much, sir. They knew what they were doing, I guess. I don't know…"

Palpatine stretched out a friendly hand and laid it on Anakin's shoulder. "Nonsense, in fact, I think you may have a larger part yet to play in all of this, before all is said and done."

Anakin squirmed with pleasure and embarrassment. "I don't know what to say, sir."

Palpatine thought about it, then decided. With a fluid agility that belied his fifty years, he knelt in front of Anakin and gently took hold of both tiny shoulders. "You need say nothing, Anakin. Just protect yourself, and keep protecting my queen."

His directive was met with the enthusiasm of a naïve mind, with Anakin's firm belief that this was a high calling that he might actually fulfill. He felt the determination fill the small shoulders, felt them tense and grow a little straighter.

For the first time, Anakin shared a smile with his Destiny. "Oh, I will, sir. Count on me."

Palpatine jerked his chin up slightly, toward the waiting starship, the curious Qui-Gon Jinn, and the watching, faintly disdainful eyes of young Obi-Wan Kenobi. "Go on then," he said with a smile of his own, infinite darkness swelling behind its kind façade.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The night was seeping like an open wound in the Light Side of the Force. Senator Palpatine, less than a day from becoming Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, and now fully Darth Sidious, lurked in his apartment deep in the isolation of his bed chamber. Here in the beatific heights of 500 Republica, he had worked and trained to carve a niche of Darkness for himself, a place to retreat from prying eyes and probing press, a place where even Plagueis might not find him if he were careful.

And he was consummately careful this evening. Plagueis was settling some issues with the Techno Union at their own embassy in the government district. Sate Pestage guarded his apartment zealously. He was alone here, alone and opened completely to the Dark Side.

The endless minute details of countless futures swirled around him in the shadowy realm of the Force, curling up against his ethereal fingers and sliding away again. Through many of the futures he saw the boy, his actions changing the galaxy with shattering significance. That the child was powerful was beyond debate. Whether he was the Chosen One of the Jedi Order, on the other hand, was a matter of opinion and determination in his less-than-humble point of view.

As the Force moved in and through his body, Sidious began to realize that all his training in the Dark Side would do him little good if he applied it to Anakin in the same way Plagueis had to him. Born a slave, lower than the insects that must have buzzed around him at his birth, Anakin craved acceptance more than power. He desired love more than strength. He sought gifts and friendship and laughter. He lived for freedom.

Sidious fell back into himself with a low gasp. Exhausted from his deep excursion into the Force, he dragged himself upright with trembling hands and moved to stand by the transparisteel window. With unseeing, molten eyes, he stared into the depths of the city-planet.

Freedom like that was a lie.

There was only the Dark Side, which provided a freedom of another sort altogether. The boy would succumb to its siren call, Sidious had no doubt anymore. The question became, how?

The use of brute force was out of the question. The boy was too young, too human, to feel the rage of a true Sith apprentice, to understand the realities of the training. No violent Zabrak heart beat in the small chest. Perhaps he should step in and try to influence the Council to accept Anakin once he had become Chancellor. The boy would chafe under their strict rules and be ripe for the harvest by the time he came of age. But that left quite a bit to chance, the possibility of the Jedi isolating him alarmingly great. Besides, the rejection by the Jedi appeared final, given by the great master Yoda himself.

Sidious did nothing to stop the small sound of disgust in the back of his throat at the thought of the little goblin. How much longer would he have to wait before he could rip the ill-fated Jedi Master limb from limb?

But Yoda had done him a favor, perhaps. If the Jedi would not take the child, he could. He would require a rock solid reason to adopt and mentor the boy, some connection that would make sense to the people, that would tug at their fickle heartstrings and yet be considered an act typical of a self-serving politician. The Chancellor of the Republic, taking a scruffy slave boy under his wing...why? What would satisfy the Holonet tabloids?

Sidious found his way to the chair beside his bed and sank into it, closing his eyes and opening his mind once more to the paths of the Dark Side. The visions came to him slowly, as if the Force itself were cautious in this new undertaking. He followed one shifting line that stretched further than all others, noting how it flexed easily in his mental grasp. Pliable, stable, relatively simple.

Simple enough that the Jedi would miss it?

So much depended on the near future, when the queen would lay claim to her kingdom once more. When she died in her pointless mission, Qui-Gon might ignore the orders of the Council anyway and train the boy. Unless… unless Qui-Gon died as well. Would Maul be up to the challenge, as Sidious had encouraged his apprentice? Only time would tell. The Force twisted with uncertainty around the Jedi Master and his arrogant young apprentice.

One point remained clear: Qui-Gon Jinn needed to die. He could not be allowed to train the boy.

But perish the thought, if he succeeded, if Qui-Gon lived, if Maul and Gunray failed…Sidious blew out his breath all at once. Such a future was not an option. He would alert his apprentice to the danger, impress upon him the importance of singling out and destroying the Jedi Master, if nothing else.

Finally, Sidious realized Maul's purpose. Years of training the Zabrak's body into a perfect weapon, years of honing the sharp mind into a bastion of seething hatred: they all converged on this critical junction in the Force.

 _May the Darkness guide your steps, Lord Maul._

For the moment, the future was out of his hands.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 **Well, even though I know I should be working on other stories, and I am, this one has been begging for my attention lately. I think it's because of my Babysitting story. Apologies for any typos found within.**

 **Feel free to review and speculate. I do enjoy hearing all of your thoughts. :)**


	2. Newborn Opportunities

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"Always in motion is the future." – Yoda

Fathers and Sons

Chapter 2

Newborn.

A better word did not exist for it. He was truly alone now, the single Sith Lord of the entire galaxy, no longer with a teacher and no longer with an apprentice. In this, he knew he was vulnerable, much as he had been when he first released the Force against his father's sneering countenance so many years ago.

Caution was the order of the day. Palpatine sat alone with his thoughts in a small communications chamber just off the corner of the main passenger compartment of the shuttle, on his way to congratulate his queen on her fantastic success against the Trade Federation. He half-feared he might Force choke her instead, an act to which her Jedi protectors might take considerable offense…

The battle had been lost, something he had seen in the limitless futures of his visions but dismissed as improbable. Now he was quickly learning that when Anakin Skywalker was involved, the improbable became the possible.

Memories of his erstwhile master continued to plague him. _The boy's actions already echo across the stars._ And what would be the final result? The Munn was dead, undone and rendered insignificant by the cold rage of his apprentice. Maul was dead too, bisected and tossed unceremoniously down a reactor pit.

He repressed a frustrated snarl at the thought. He had warned Maul, but the Zabrak's lust for Jedi blood had overridden his common sense. His connection to the Dark Side had been too heated, too much like the Sith Lords of ancient times. No finesse, no thought, no ability to adapt to the situation at hand. Maul had been a mere tool in the hand of a Master who briefly forgot that all he wielded was a mindless blade.

He would not make that mistake again.

The shuttle pilot's voice filtered over the intercom. "We'll be landing in four standard minutes. Theed is looking bright with victory today! As we come in, you can see the famous Pillars of Justice on your left. Standby." The pilot's words fuzzed out.

Palpatine departed the small compartment and joined his companions in the roomy passenger bay. Beside him Janus Greejatus appeared, Palpatine's replacement as senator of the Chommell Sector and one of Palpatine's long-term acquaintances. A year older than Palpatine, with light brown hair and pale skin, Greejatus had moved through the political ranks with acumen that Palpatine could admire. He had an abrasive personality and an unfortunate tendency to speak out against nonhumans though, and for this reason the new Supreme Chancellor-Elect avoided endorsing him completely.

They had known each other since the days of Naboo's Legislative Youth Program, and Greejatus considered himself a friend to Palpatine. He leaned close and offered in a stage whisper, "She'll have no choice but to listen to you now, Sheev."

Palpatine smiled without showing his teeth, which gritted tightly together at the familiar use of his given name. "Our Queen continually keeps the best interests of our people at heart, Janus. As Supreme Chancellor, I must look to a wider audience, that of our beloved Republic. The individual concerns of Naboo will fall to your discretion."

Greejatus widened his eyes. "Spoken selflessly, as always."

They shared a look of meaning, deeper amusement. Palpatine spread his hands helplessly. "I do what I can, Janus. Our real work lies ahead of us, not behind. Keep that in mind as you work with our Queen to stabilize Naboo." His unspoken words rang through the air: _Keep your non-human chauvinism locked up, or there will be trouble._

Greejatus nodded, more serious now. "Of course, she will require a delicate handling."

Coming up on the other side of the two men, Kinman Doriana snorted. "I wouldn't mind a little handling there."

Palpatine shot him a look of faint disapproval. Doriana, always the notorious womanizer and deeply enamored with his own self-importance, tended to regard women as objects who were only there for his taking. A simple, base mind. Simple, but useful. "She's too young, Doriana. Remember who you speak of."

"Of course, I was only jesting, Chancellor," Doriana paled a bit and bowed at the shoulders.

Greejatus laughed, stepped around the Chancellor, and slung an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "Wait about ten years, and perhaps she'll give you a second look. Then again, ten years and you might be too far gone."

Doriana brayed a sharp laugh and slapped his hand against Greejatus's back. Forty standard years old, ten years younger than his benefactor Palpatine, Kinman Doriana was clean-shaven and slightly balding. He had spent many years at Palpatine's side since the days of Palpatine's ambassadorship. Doriana was an able bureaucratic organizer, and he knew the underworlds of several planets very well, including Coruscant.

Unlike Sate, these two men knew nothing of Palpatine's true nature, and Palpatine had no intention of revealing himself to Doriana, but Greejatus… Palpatine strongly suspected that the man had a significant connection with the Force. In time, that could be useful. He would continue to watch these two men and use them until he no longer had need of them.

Speaking of the man, here came Sate, his lean, sallow face lined with excitement. The Force shifted in the Chancellor-Elect. Pestage moved close to Palpatine, and Doriana and Greejatus fell back, sensing a different focus of their leader's attention. Palpatine caught Sate by one arm and drew him further from the waiting dignitaries. Greejatus and Kinman would keep the others entertained. "What is it?" he asked softly.

Pestage was practically purring in delight. "The young Jedi apprentice, Palpatine. I received word that he was gravely wounded in the fight with the 'creature.'"

Palpatine stared deeply into his eyes, almost into his mind. _Obi-Wan Kenobi?_ He felt genuine astonishment. "Kenobi?" At Sate's tight nod, Palpatine lowered his voice further until it was barely audible. "Why do you suppose the Council withheld this information?" _The grubby worms lied to me… almost admirable._

"I suppose they didn't want to admit how close the situation truly came," Sate shrugged. "Saving face and all that. Does it really matter? We have a chance to tie up our loose ends."

Palpatine drew in a deep breath. "Where is he?"

"Here on Theed, in the Royal Hospital. The Queen would hear of nothing less after they found him with his dead master," Sate smirked. "He's in a bacta tank for several life-threatening wounds."

Palpatine lowered his head, leaned in closer to Sate so they might appear to be in deep conversation to curious eyes, and nudged against the Force, seeking confirmation. It opened like a floodgate, pouring into him and startling him with an intensity he had not felt since the death of Plagueis. A sign then, that all was proceeding as he had foreseen. A dark blessing, of sorts.

He looked up and saw Pestage grimacing. Palpatine realized his hands had become claws, digging into the thin cloth of his agent's shoulders. He quickly released him and straightened. "At death's door?"

The older man nodded.

"A door of opportunity," Palpatine breathed. He pulled his powers tightly into himself and composed his thoughts. "Could you do it?"

"It couldn't get much easier, if that's what you're asking," Pestage shrugged. "Bleeding idiots feel like the war is won."

"Untraceable?" Palpatine raised his eyes to observe the dignitaries in the passenger compartment. No other being was focused on them at the moment. Greejatus and Kinman were providing a perfect smokescreen of off-color teasing and laughter, and the other diplomats were either tittering in scandalized delight or pretending to be offended. Much too busy to notice them.

"Perfectly so."

"Well done, Sate," Palpatine admired the man's efficiency and his ability to guess his master's wishes. This was a man he could not afford to lose yet. "When could it be done?"

"Leave it to me, sir." _Of course, plausible deniability._ Their partnership had grown into a seamless blend of knowledge and purposeful ignorance, both quite content to let the other operate in his realm of expertise.

Sate's loyalty was unquestionable, for reasons that Palpatine did not fully understand. Since the beginning of his acquaintance with the man, Pestage had attached himself to Palpatine with whole-hearted devotion, never asking for anything in return but to serve. Thus the relationship had been mutually beneficial to the extreme. It was the closest that Palpatine might ever come to trusting one of his advisors, and for that reason, he knew he had to be careful.

"Should I proceed, sir?" Sate tilted his head, beady eyes completely focused on his master.

Palpatine reached into the Force, and it looked back at him. It was reaching out to him now, speaking with dark intent.

And…warning? He frowned, pulling himself as deep as he dared, again clutching at Sate to stay upright. This couldn't be…The currents flowed freely over him, shadows shifting over his mind and whispering. The Jedi could still play a role in the boy's downfall, somehow.

Wait…what was…the Jedi himself was important?

How? The vision slipped away with frustrating ease.

"Sir?" Sate said.

The order stuck deep in his throat, choked away by the darkness. He blinked rapidly and tested another possibility, tugging on the cloaked future. Like shifting sand in a fast-flowing river, the Force moved away from him. Yet, there was always another way, and Sidious had always been adept in changing with the tides. He tried again, his voice nearly breaking as he returned to the mortal plane. "Do you recall the formula you used on Senator Halil four years ago?"

Sate's eyebrows twitched up above cold eyes. "Extremely rare and exceptionally effective. He was in a coma for nearly six months. By the time he woke up, his bill had already-"

"Failed," Palpatine said. Sate nodded, the agent perfectly still under his hands.

"So should I assume you want him alive but out of action for the foreseeable future?"

It was Palpatine's turn to nod. "Something tells me he could yet be useful to us."

The grin that spread across Sate's sallow face would have frightened anyone else. "Then I'll make sure Jedi Kenobi has a very restful nap."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 **Thanks for all your lovely reviews and follows/favs, folks. I love hearing your thoughts and feedback. I've recently finished a fairly large work commitment, so updates should show up more frequently.**

 **In the novel** _ **Darth Plagueis**_ **, there is a point when Plagueis is on the verge of revealing Kamino's existence to Sifo-Dyas, but his voice is literally cut off by the Dark Side of the Force. I found that very, very interesting. The Force works in mysterious ways. :) It looks like Obi-Wan still has a part to play in this story, but will their diabolical plan go off without a hitch?**

 **Leave a review if you could. I hope you've enjoyed the chapter.**


	3. Second Meetings

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"Obi-Wan seemed not to have noticed the fury simmering in the boy, but for an instant Palpatine perceived a touch of his younger self in Skywalker. The need to challenge authority; the gift for masking his emotions. The yet-unrecognized _power_." _– Darth Plagueis_

Fathers and Sons

Chapter 3

After leaving his guards in his quarters with strict orders not to be disturbed and slipping out a back passageway, he found the boy later that evening, looking lost and forlorn in a wide, empty hallway of the palace. Dried tracks of tears marred his small face. Palpatine felt the Force shiver in anticipation, and he approached slowly, silently over the smooth granite floor, pulling the emotions of a gravely concerned father-figure into his mind.

This was one of the few quiet places in Theed tonight. The whole city seemed determined to celebrate its victory with fireworks, singing, and dancing, and he might have been far angrier had Pestage not brought him such delightful news on the shuttle. Even now his assistant worked to ensure that Obi-Wan Kenobi would not threaten the future.

"Hello there," he announced his presence while several meters away from Skywalker.

Anakin's head jerked up from where he sat curled against a large viewing port, his small body tucked onto the ledge. He slid down to the floor and stared at the tiles, certain he'd committed some palatial faux pas, afraid to meet Palpatine's eyes.

The Chancellor-Elect stopped a half meter away and inclined his head with a warm smile. "So here is where our planet's hero has disappeared."

In the Force, the boy's untrained emotions reigned supreme. Embarrassment at the praise, sorrow at Qui-Gon's passing, fear for his future, curiosity about Kenobi, pride at his accomplishments, one after another they boiled over Palpatine's own glacial presence. He fed on them gladly, admiring the pure and unblemished nature. _Imagine the possibilities in a few years…_

"Are you all right, Anakin?" He injected a hesitant concern into his voice.

Anakin nodded, but his hanging head told a different story. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm just, really sad about Master Qui-Gon. I…I…"

"You're going to miss him," Palpatine prompted gently and was rewarded with a long sniffling sob.

Horrified, Anakin clapped his hands over his mouth. Palpatine resisted the urge to laugh. He crossed beyond the young boy and settled himself with gracious dignity onto the ledge that Anakin had just vacated. "It is all right to grieve for the passing of a friend, Anakin. You needn't hide such an elemental reaction."

Anakin stared at him as though they had never met. "You're not angry? Or upset?"

Palpatine sighed. "Far from it. In fact, I had known Master Qui-Gon for several years. The galaxy will sorely miss a man of his caliber." _They just don't know it yet._

"I think, I think he would have trained me, if he lived," Anakin blurted. "I wanted to go with him."

"Qui-Gon saw in you the same greatness I see," Palpatine told him. "Yet, I'm not certain even the venerable Master Qui-Gon could have changed the minds of the Jedi Council. They are long accustomed to having their wishes obeyed, especially by their own."

It was a well-placed barb. Anakin's anger and resentment were suddenly flame-bright, dazzling Palpatine with the massive, untamed surge in the Force. "In fact," he dared to venture, "I'm not certain a promising individual such as yourself would have easily handled being ordered about by the Jedi Council."

 _Slave._ It was a gentle suggestion in the Force, no more than an afterthought, but it soaked into the impressionable young mind with ease.

Anakin straightened immediately, his eyes smoking with the heat of his memories and completely unaware of the insidious whisper. "I won't ever be a slave to anyone again, sir," he promised. "I couldn't stand it. Not then. Not now. Not never."

"Ever, not ever," Palpatine corrected gently, watched the boy flush with embarrassment. He felt Anakin's presence in the Force dwindle to a mere shadow of its former state. Such an intriguing need to impress, to shine, to simply... be seen. To be accepted.

So Palpatine ensured that he was. "Regardless, you've hit upon the matter precisely, Anakin. They _can't_ control you. That's why they forbade you from the Order. Already at your young age, you exude a power that even those without the Force, such as I, can sense. Why, even Chancellor Valorum noticed briefly on the platform. I saw him smiling at you." A simple, bold lie, easy to imagine, impossible to verify.

"Really?" Anakin began to fidget, hands twisting together, eyes wide at the thought. He was openly pleased, a book to be read at one's leisure.

"Absolutely, and we both know smiling has never been one of his stronger virtues." His own guileless grin coaxed a much larger one and a soft giggle from the boy.

This was going well. "You know," he leaned back against the window, steepled his fingers, and nodded thoughtfully. "I believe it is mostly due to you that my people still live free, Anakin. If you had not destroyed the droid control ship, well, let's not consider the consequences."

Anakin glanced up at him with a shaky smile. "I kinda broke the rules. Master Qui-Gon didn't want me to get involved. He told me to stay in the cockpit."

Palpatine released a conspiratorial grin. "And so you did. You're not much of a lawbreaker, Anakin, when only good things come of it."

They laughed together. The shadows of the moon played across the shining floor, flickered in the corners. Palpatine leaned toward Anakin and lowered his voice as though sharing a serious secret. "You know, when I was your age, I broke a few rules myself."

Anakin's jaw fell open. "No way!" he protested with a lopsided grin. "You're the Chancellor now, sir. I don't believe you." Then he ducked his head and retreated into the little thrall he was, clearly shocked at his boldness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to doubt you, sir."

"Anakin, I dare say this is a sensitive subject for you, but at the risk of seeming brusque," Palpatine paused, watched the fear that spread across the boy's face, "you are no longer a slave. You are free." He stood up and took several steps away, lifting one hand and beckoning through the air. "This means you can speak your mind to whomever you wish, whenever you wish, however you wish. The only consequences that will impact you are the consequences every free being in the galaxy risks, including me."

Anakin was in awe, staring up, at a complete loss for words.

Palpatine turned to face him. "I am not offended by you, Anakin. It pleases me to see you so free. You are a needed reminder to those of us in the Core Worlds that not all is right with the galaxy yet."

"Me? What could I ever do, sir? I'm just a kid from a backwater planet," Anakin finally squeaked out. "I'm not smart or educated like you. I build droids and race pods. Even the Jedi didn't want me."

Palpatine returned to his side and laid his thin hand on the boy's right shoulder. "The Jedi are not infallible, Anakin. In time you will come to see that. I, for one, see you becoming a great leader. You have the power. You need only learn to use it in the ways that will benefit you, your loved ones, and the galaxy."

Anakin glanced into his eyes, then quickly looked away again back to the floor. "I just don't see how that's possible, Chancellor sir. They're probably going to send me back to Tatooine. I _know_ Obi-Wan Kenobi won't want me."

Palpatine reached out and lifted his chin with an index finger, but Anakin barely met his gaze. "Do not concern yourself with Master Kenobi, Anakin. He has a long road ahead of him. And I wouldn't count your future out yet, if I were you. The galaxy moves in mysterious ways." He straightened. "And life goes on. The ceremony is due to begin shortly. Would you care to accompany this poor tired man through this dusty old palace?"

Anakin flashed a true, brilliant smile, so bright in the Force that it almost made Sidious sick to his stomach. He forced the bile down, drew the Dark Side closer, and set off down the hall at a brisk pace, the boy churning along beside him in a kaleidoscope of childish affection. He could sense Anakin's wonderment at being approached by such a powerful man, of being treated like an equal.

Such simple needs, such simple solutions.

Already, he could feel the tendrils of the Force connecting them and condoning the coming future.

Palpatine could taste the victory before the war even began.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 **And the connection begins to form. Watch out, Jedi Order… Palpatine is one smooth operator, but then Anakin is one naïve, lost, depressed little kid already removed from his parental figures. About anything looks better than his status quo. Palpatine is subscribing to the philosophy of catching more flies with honey than vinegar, and we all know how patient he can be when he has a goal in mind.**

 **Apologies for any typos found within, and I hope you are enjoying this story. Let me know what you think. I'm always glad to hear from folks.**


	4. Loose Ends

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"What is known about this Anakin?"

"Very little, except for the fact that he was born into slavery nine years ago and was, until recently, along with his mother, the property of Gardulla the Hutt, then a Toydarian junk dealer." Dooku smirked. "Also that he won the Boonta Eve Classic Podrace." _– Darth Plagueis_

Fathers and Sons

Chapter 4

 _Shadows… shadows with sharp teeth and leering smiles, shadows that wielded blades of fire sinking into unsuspecting chests. Coughing, dying, promises in the last breaths of air… He twisted the shadows in his hands to part them and see… Master….no, don't die, don't leave me here with the boy. You need to raise him. Not me… I can't. Don't you see? I'm not like you. I don't want to train him._

 _I promised to train him. Get up, he commanded and felt the muscles of his body mocking him, useless and cold. The Force encompassed him like a shroud, and he almost gave in to the caress of darkness, but his promise stirred him, a promise to a dying man, a good man._

 _He reached out to the distant light, and the sky began to open. He could hear voices, muffled and warped. He moved his hand to… well, he didn't know why, but it only twitched, and a cool sliminess surrounded his senses. A few more seconds, and he would be able to open his eyes. He would know._

 _And then something warm like liquid fire coursed through his veins. Paralyzing pain seized every nerve in his body, but he couldn't scream. He couldn't even open his mouth to try. The retreating darkness now approached once more, foreboding in the way it beckoned to him. No… please, no, I have to go._

 _All the reasoning in the world would not help him now. The shadows swallowed him and took his thoughts away. Even the thoughts of the good man… the dying man… no…_

 _He drifted like a puppet cut loose from its strings._

Sate Pestage stared up at the battered visage of the young Jedi warrior, his beady eyes processing the moment the poison took effect with professional efficiency. Watching the face go slack, losing even the registration of pain, the agent quietly reflected. The job had been simple, a mere matter of splicing into the Jedi's nutrient lines of his bacta tank when everyone else was occupied with the celebrations and the safety of the attending diplomats. One failed little Jedi earned only the attention of a nurse who had been ridiculously simple to fool, the holocams easy to overwhelm.

Palpatine would be pleased. His master's decision had been inspired. This particular drug had a kickback preventative measure; any attempt to manipulate or negate its effects, and the drug would begin proactively shutting down the victim's nervous system, leaving a gibbering mess if the victim were lucky. For this one's sake, Pestage thought while staring up, the Jedi had better not meddle too deeply. Even use of the Force would come too late if they toyed with what they did not understand.

He cast one last look up and chuckled. "Sleep tight, Jedi. Don't worry, we'll take care of everything."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He had one last distasteful chore to complete before he could return to Coruscant and begin the next phase of his endless plotting. It was not difficult to convince the queen and his fawning supporters of his desire to mediate in privacy over his upcoming and sobering duties to the Republic. Naboo's reputation for privacy and symbolic ceremony came in useful. After all, the weight of the galaxy would soon be upon his shoulders, and who could blame him for wanting to collect his thoughts in the last bit of peace he would likely ever know, when his own planet had nearly been broken by war?

His reputation as an intensely private, solitary man came to his assistance. In Theed, he kept a modest apartment complex in complete seclusion, a throwback to his earlier years in Naboo's Apprentice Legislator program. Only a select few including Sate Pestage and Naboo Security Chief Panaka knew of its precise location, and all were sworn to complete secrecy.

Palpatine would be formally inducted into office in two standard days, once the office of the Supreme Chancellor had been transferred from Valorum's staff to his own, leaving him plenty of time to accomplish this mission and return to Coruscant. When the night reached its zenith, he cloaked his presence in the Force and concealing robes, took a triple-finned speeder to one of Theed's busiest space ports, boarded a small, nondescript courier ship, and shot past the glowing atmosphere of his home planet, setting the course for nearby Tatooine.

Once in upper orbit, he engaged the stygium-powered cloaking device and leaned back in the pilot's seat. Thanks to his limitless connections to both money and malleable sentients, the ship was a twenty-six meter Star Courier, a near twin of the infamous _Scimitar_ that he had bestowed upon Darth Maul, which was now in the hands of the most talented Jedi technicians after the ship's auto-defense mechanisms had slaughtered multiple unsuspecting Naboo security guards upon its discovery in the palace's hanger.

The relatively short journey to Tatooine was spent in complete silence as he meditated deeply in the Dark Side. His conversation with Anakin Skywalker as they walked to the funeral ceremony had revealed much. For being a slave, the boy certainly maintained a foolish ignorance and trust of strangers. Anakin confirmed Dooku's story of no father; he and his mother had lived completely within the power of a Toydarian shopkeeper by the name of Watto. The slave owner plied his trade in Mos Espa, where he haggled endlessly with the galaxy's scum and wagered his ill-begotten income on the local podraces.

Watto would pose no threat to him, but the mother was another issue altogether. In the Force, he tugged on one of the endless strings of the future and watched it unravel, spooling through his immaterial hands. He studied it closely, as a priest of ancient times might have studied the steaming entrails of a sacrificial victim. He tugged another fateful line and felt his presence humming with surprise. There were options here.

Opportunity abounded. So did danger. He would need to walk this path very, very carefully.

The soft, insistent pinging of his ship's entry alert system brought him out of the Force near Mos Espa. It was day here, and he watched the dusty swirls of sand plow across the barren surface below. Tatooine's bleak landscape inspired nothing, covered with sand, broken rocks and meteors, bones of long-dead species, and distant, insect-like lines of migrating Tusken raiders. He instructed the autopilot to set the ship down just outside the city limits and to remain completely cloaked.

He could hear the sand grating against the hull as the courier-class starship settled into the soft surface, its three claws splaying out and sinking nearly a foot into the ductile surface before stabilizing. Sidious pulled the long hood of his robes far over his head, and he pulled the illusions of the Dark Side over his features. No one would be recognizing him.

The hatch hissed open. A wave of sand flew into his face, and he tugged the lower part of his hood over his mouth and nose. A sandstorm often proved highly dangerous and disorienting to most beings of the galaxy, but he was not "most beings." Centering himself in the darkness, he strode out of the ship and moved swiftly toward the small spaceport.

The shabby town was nearly deserted in the epicenter of the storm. Only a couple desperate beings drifted in and out of his sight as he padded through the streets of the business sector, his boots sinking deep in the sand with each step, his senses stretching into every shadow and nook. There. A subtle shift in the Force had him arriving at the entrance of a non-descript shop, its sign battered and half worn away, but it still clearly identified Watto's mark. Cautiously, he waved the door open and slid inside, body taut with anticipation.

The interior was tiny, cramped, haphazard in the way droid and starship parts were tossed here and everywhere. He felt his nose wrinkle in disdain at the thick layer of dust that covered everything. His eyes quickly adjusted to the grim lighting, saw a miniscule droid lift its flattened disc of a head and chirp a sharp greeting.

"Niuta, be cotma!" The single eye in its front lit up with a deep blue glow, and it stood to its full half-meter height and came around the counter, processor drive whirring.

Sidious peered around the dingy room hoping to spy the Toydarian. "Achuta, mi bosco de Watto. Cha unco?" Thanks to Dar Wac's irritating habit of speaking Huttese in civilized circles, Palpatine's own grasp of the language had never grown stale. It benefitted him also, in that the harshness of the language served well to disguise his usual erudite tones.

"Hees la," the droid beckoned with a two-pronged appendage to a small door leading to the back of the shop. Sidious side-stepped a suspicious pile of slag and moved through the short door frame. The Toydarian dealer lay on his back under the broken hull of a bi-fin landspeeder, his large, clawed feet digging into the dusty floor as he maneuvered for a better angle.

The Sith Lord found a relatively clean bucket chair, ripped from some unfortunate racing pod, and took a seat quietly. He reached out with the Force and sensed that Watto's mind, like those of most Toydarians, was resistant to the will of the Force. Small matter.

"Goodde da lodia, Watto."

Deeply engaged in his work, Watto jerked with surprise when Sidious spoke a greeting, bashing his enormous nose against the bottom edge of the speeder. He flopped out from under the speeder and flapped into the air, waving both clawed hands, sputtering indignantly. "Da chuda!"

Sidious let a small smile escape from under his hood. "Chut chut, me tinka chuba haba hopa mi."

Watto's wings slowed to a steadier beat, and he hovered closer, but his eyes still gleamed with sharp suspicion. Who in their right minds went shopping in this sort of weather? "Stuta pachee? En sando?"

The Dark Lord shook his head. Watto's store held nothing of the slightest value to him. "Nopa. Konchee ta shag?"

"Jah peedunkee Skywalker? Jee dwana he," Watto chortled. He tossed a small spanner from hand to hand, impatient to be rid of this interloper. Sidious also sensed a great amount of annoyance and bitterness at the mention of the boy.

"Nopa, me naga ta cheeka." He watched the comprehension settle on the miserable creature's face. An impression of the woman's visage swam into his mind, vague and tired.

"Chuba naga cheekta?" Watto's wrinkled proboscis curled and twisted. "Da wanga! Wan cheekta?"

"Bargon u noa-a-uyat," Sidious intoned softly, hoping that the Toydarian's greed would win out, and planning to fulfill no such bargain if it did.

Watto appeared to think about the offer. He studied the human's rich black robes, tried to peer at his face without prying. He finally shook his head and backed up in the air. "Me dwana wanga. Me hagwa naga dwana andobah."

"Chess ko," Sidious warned.

Watto's face flushed with anger. He pointed a gnarled finger in the human's direction. "Ah'chu apenkee? Hi chuba da naga?"

The time for bartering was past, Sidious could see it now. For some inexplicable reason, the dealer was not willing to part with the mother. Stubbornness was rarely a virtue in this mad galaxy; one really needed to learn to bend with the changing tides. He stood slowly from the chair, the grimy air around him darkening with his intent. Watoo's eyes bulged. He lifted the spanner in front of him as though it were a weapon.

Sidious chuckled.

"Boska!" Watto growled. "Droi! Hopa mi!" He abruptly threw the spanner at the human and made a scrabbling dash for the exit. Sidious waved the spanner aside with a twitch of one hand and lifted the other into a loose fist.

Watto's flight was short lived. He let loose a hoarse squeal of pain as the Dark Side constricted around his thick throat. His spindly limbs came up to claw at the invisible grip.

Sidious rotated him in a half circle and stepped closer, smiling, taunting. "Koona t'chuta? Me hagwa tinka."

Behind him, the droid appeared in the doorway and released an alarmed series of chatters. Its efforts went unappreciated. Sidious waved his free hand and watched in satisfaction as the small metallic body was crushed into the side wall of the shop in a blaze of sparks.

He turned his attention back to Watto and finally released his death hold. Watto collapsed to the floor like a boned fish. He gasped for the precious, dusty air. The Toydarian huddled in the dirt for several seconds until he remembered his guest. "Your-ra not from around here!" he forced out in heavily accented Basic. "Whaaat, are you some kinda Jedi?! Like the others?"

"I wouldn't say that," the Dark Lord stared down at the helpless, quivering lump of flesh, felt the disdain crawl across his shoulders.

"You roughing me up for a slave? You beat me up and you get nothing, eh?" Watto coughed and rubbed at his throat, eyes rolling up to regard the human closely. "Treat me wrong, I won't talk."

"Oh, your ability to speak is quite irrelevant," Sidious purred softly. He knelt beside the Toydarian. One sharp knee pinned Watto's left wing to the floor. The thin membranes tore under the pressure.

Watto froze, like a non-sentient quadruped scenting mortal danger on the wind. His trunk of a nose trembled in the stillness. "Mind trick? Your tricks don'ta work on me, you see?" He pressed his head lower to the floor when Sidious suddenly reached out a slender, pale hand.

"Nothing so mundane as a mind trick," he assured the creature and hovered his fingertips above the greasy forehead. "Unfortunately for you."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 **Just Palpatine typing up his loose ends and making sure nothing will impede his plans. Housekeeping is a pesky thing, sometimes, but very necessary when plotting the takeover of a galaxy.**

 **Apologies for any typos found within, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Leave a review, I won't mind. :)**

 **(Translation of the Huttese in case the context clues weren't enough (may we just say, there are some very dedicated sites out there…)**

D: Please, come in.

P: Hello, I am looking for Watto. Is he here?

D: He's there.

P: Good day to you, Watto.

W: Hello/What is it? (irritated phrase)

P: Excuse me, I think you may be able to help me.

W: Are you looking for parts? In a sandstorm?

P: No. Where is the slave?

W: The boy Skywalker? I sold him.

P: No. I want the woman.

W: You want her? That one! Why her?

P: Your services will be rewarded.

W: I sold one. I don't want to sell another.

P: Be careful.

W: Who are you? What do you want?

W: Get out! Droid, help me!

P: Going somewhere? I don't think so.)


End file.
